Calling From the Dead (2004)

  (I have told a few of you this story and it returned to me today, so no better time to post it)
 
  I returned to the United States in September 2004 after living in Bermuda for a while. I had made a new friend while in Bermuda. She was from Northern, NJ outside of NYC. I talked with her often when I came back to Baltimore; and made a few weekend trips up to see her during the Fall. I actually enjoyed taking the back roads through Delaware and New Jersey on those beautiful Autumn afternoons.

  A few miles north of Princeton University I would pass an old cemetery. This cemetery was enclosed in a very old spiked wrought iron fence with a large, black gothic gate. The gate was always closed and locked every time I drove by. I had a constant pull to go in. One afternoon however the gate was open so I parked on the street and entered.

  There were no roads or walkways in the graveyard, just grass and tombstones. Also no one was around, it was empty and extremely quiet and peaceful. I looked at none of the headstones when I entered; as I was drawn to the back of the cemetery by a dense area of large cedar trees. As I got near the corner a stronger force pulled me to one headstone in particular. I kneeled down to read it. It read the following:

Here lies the body of

Ronald David Vons

Born: March 16th, 1771

Died: ??,??,18??

  (1. This is my full name; yet the last name is off by one letter. However, my paternal family with that name came to the United States in 1915 from Czechoslovakia and they changed the last name to what it is today from "Vons" for political reasons. 2. The birth date is my birth date; but exactly 200 years earlier. 3. Also at the top of the headstone was a signature skull and crossbones; which I have always loved and have a tattoo of on my arm for 20 years now.)

  After reading this I was very spooked and offered a few words of blessing and such at the grave spot. I never looked at any other headstones in that graveyard. I left immediately, got in my truck and rolled out. When I got to my destination I told a few people of this story. Everyone of course had varying opinions from curses, to purpose, contact from the dead, to past lives, and so one. They all did share the same thought, "Why didn't I get a picture"? Oddly, I have a few excuses: 1. I didn't have a camera phone in those days.  2. I was too freaked out to even think about it.  3. My very nice expensive camera had literally gotten stolen from my truck the week prior.

  On my way home I purchased an instant camera to get that picture; yet again the graveyard was locked up tight. I only went back up that way one more time after this occurrence and as to be expected the cemetery remained locked up and closed to the public.